


Misc. Star Wars/OC One Shots

by JabbaJambler



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Din Djarin Needs a Hug, F/M, Original Character(s), Poe Dameron Needs A Hug, Star Wars References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:07:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27748741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JabbaJambler/pseuds/JabbaJambler
Summary: Based around my worksI just love my OCs and their Star Wars counterparts. I just wanted to write some small AU pieces for them.I hope you enjoy! :)
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s), Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, Poe Dameron/Original Female Character(s), Poe Dameron/Reader, Poe Dameron/You
Kudos: 10





	1. I Don't Dance

# I Don't Dance

Night had long since fallen on Canto Bight, but the planet was never truly asleep. Casinos and clubs were filled to the very brim with people. Gamblers, party-goers, and the occasional hunters gathered on the planet. No one truly knew what happened within the walls, the secrets that each room held

After all, what happens on Canto Bight, stays on Canto Bight. 

Tonight was no different. People danced, mingled, drank, and gambled. Every night was a celebration and the people there lived it to the fullest.

At the bar sat a mysterious man. He was tall and sat with the confidence of someone who had visited the planet several times. Yet no one recognized him.

It would be hard not to remember the glistening beskar armor, paired with a matching helmet that hid his face from the galaxy. And here he sat at the bar on a busy night, without being able to take a mere sip of a drink. It was ironic, really. 

His gaze shifted over the vast room of people dressed in black and white. It was a gorgeous room of riches, something he was rarely able to see. The walls were tall, painted or possibly even made from gold. Long, thick red curtains were draped against the glimmering walls as if each fold was made on purpose. 

The Mandalorian had never seen anything like it.

He watched as the people danced around one last time before he remembered his mission at hand. Someone here was meant to deliver him information on his bounty and they were already fifteen minutes late. He knew damn well that he didn’t blend in with the casual scene, he wouldn’t be hard to find. So why were they so late? Or was it all a set up?

“Looking for someone?” 

The voice brought him out of his thoughts. It was so delicate and kind, nothing he would have ever expected to come from the cruel world of Canto Bight. 

Behind all its glory and lights was a darkness like no other. The Mandalorian knew that and little did he know, the sweet voice he heard tonight knew as well. 

“Well?” They asked again in the silence. He let a quiet sigh escape his modulator as he spun to face the sound’s origin. His eyes widened behind his helmet as he met the gentle stare of the woman beside him. 

Her skin was graced with a gentle, tanned glow. It matched perfectly with her dark, piercing eyes and soft, brown curls that fell just past her collar bone. His eyes shifted downwards, watching the sparkle of her black, shimmering dress. It was an asymmetric sort of dress that was held up with a thick strap over her left shoulder. The dress landed right at her ankle, displaying her pearly-white heels that were clipped, meeting where the dress ended. 

“No.” He spoke gruffly, quickly pulling his gaze from her, trying to focus anywhere else. 

“Really?” She hummed and crossed her ankles, her heel just barely brushing against the Mandalorian’s boot. Still, he noticed. “So you’re not here with anyone then?”

His head tilted at her question, the light bouncing off the helm as it moved. It was certainly a question he didn’t expect and one he wasn’t sure he ever received. 

“Well, surely a man like you isn’t just sitting here for no reason. You must be after something.” She shuffled her seat close to his, her foot now tapping against his shin. He assumed it was only an accident, but he didn’t want her to stop either. 

His eyes lifted to meet hers. They held a soft yet somehow stern stare that he found himself drawn to. He couldn’t look away from them, it was as though they were pulling him in. Closer, and closer, he leaned towards her. 

She met him in the middle, her lips barely touching the cold, metal helmet as she whispered to him. “I know what you’re after. The information? I have it.”

His head snapped to meet hers. Her face was close, closer than he expected. He could see every detail, every speck of color in her eyes and he thought they were unbelievable. He wanted to map out the features of her face and memorize them while he could. 

“All you owe me is a dance.” Her lips lifted into a timid smirk. His eyes caught note of the way the corners moved up to create a lovely smile that he had never seen directed towards him. 

“I can’t dance.” He mumbled. “Tell me _now_.”

She rolled her eyes while her fingers danced across his wrist, moving slowly, tentatively up his arm until she cautiously grasped his bicep. He tried and failed to hold back the shiver that accompanied her touch. 

“I refuse to believe that a man who has traveled the galaxy can’t dance. Besides, no one out there cares anyway. So exactly how important is this info to you?” She tilted her head, her curls following to reveal her bare shoulder. Her skin looked soft and he wondered what it would actually feel like beneath his fingertips.

He could’ve forced her to give up the information. He could’ve pulled her up by the arm and dragged her out the door, held a blaster to her head and threatened the information out of her. 

But he knew he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Nor did he want to.

“Fine.”

“That’s what I thought.” She stood, allowing the dress to fall perfectly around her. It wasn’t just the dress that sparkled, he thought, that was just her. Her entire attitude and aura shone before him like she was the most important person in the room. 

She reached her hand out towards him, resulting in another simple head tilt. This was not his area of expertise, nowhere close, in fact. Yet he was willing to put himself in such a vulnerable place for this woman that he never met before.

He finally lifted himself from the seat, carefully taking her arm beneath his while she pulled him towards the crowd of dancers. Her smile was beaming, shining brighter than the stars in the sky and the Mandalorian wondered what else he could do to make her smile.

She put her hand on his shoulder, right between the area where his cape and pauldron met. He could feel the heat of her palm through the cloth and for a moment, he relished in the feeling before pulling himself back to reality. His hand snaked its way to the small of her back. He found himself wondering if she felt the same way he had when her hand made contact with him.

The Mandalorian’s other hand lifted to hold hers, almost wishing he didn’t have the leather glove barrier between them. No one looked at the two, even though they were an obscure pair. Everyone was lost in their own world and Mando wondered why shouldn’t he do the same?

The band played a beautiful, soft tune that carried through the masses yet the two had yet to move. He felt a sense of nervousness with the girl before him. He didn’t want to embarrass her.

“Don’t be so tense.” She teased and wrapped her arm around him, her hand resting against the back of his neck. She was so close that he could smell the citrus scent that wafted off of her and he couldn’t get enough of it. 

“I don’t dance.” He grumbled, but enjoyed every second he was so close to her.

“Then follow my lead.” She winked and took a few steps this way and that way in accordance with the music. The Mandalorian begrudgingly followed her steps but tried to not come off as clueless as he felt in the moment. 

It started off as a simple sway sort of movement, but slowly Mando found himself understanding the concept. He glanced around at the crowd, afraid of what his thoughts would say if he glanced down at the wondrous woman in his arms. 

A few people started to watch the two, whispering short things about the Mandalorian. They were noticing how strange this all looked and it made him want to reach for his blaster, something to protect him after he let his guard down.

“Hold me closer.”

“What?” He finally looked down, watching how her eyes quickly inspected their surroundings.

“You want your info, don’t you? People are listening, pull me closer.” She hissed. 

He didn’t quite grasp the reasoning but he wasn’t going to argue anymore. He pulled her to his chest, his grip on her tightened as though he didn’t want to let her go.

“Where’s the asset?”

“So quick to jump into business.” She tsked and removed her hand from his neck, running her fingers over the smooth beskar. 

He watched her move, wondering what it would be like if there was no armor there at all. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine the feeling of her tracing the gentle shapes through the thin cloth behind the chest plate. 

She pressed her lips to the helmet once again, pulling her free hand from his to replace the lost warmth at the back of his neck. He tried not to move too quickly as his now free hand met his other on her waist.

“They’re hidden away on Jakku. A pretty shitty planet if you ask me, but I guess it’s an okay place to hide.”

“Have you been?” He asked curiously. He’d never been to Jakku, never heard much about it till now.

“Once or twice. I know the bounty’s armed and waiting for someone like you.” Her fingers moved to his helmet, pushing his head to face her without any resistance from him. “I’m sure you can handle him though.”

“What do I owe you for this?” His voice was gentle while his eyes drifted from her face to the curve of her neck. The grip on her waist tensed once again as he wanted to lift his hand to trace the dip of her collar bone. 

“Oh, darling.” She chuckled and moved her hand from the back to the front of his neck. “All I wanted was a dance.” Her fingers fiddled with the fabric of his cloak while Mando found himself unable to breathe. 

“Surely I can repay you.” His head ducked towards her ear, causing another laugh to fall from her lips. 

“You drive a hard bargain, Mando, but I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done. Besides, don’t you have a bounty to catch?” She pressed her hands firm against his chest to push away from his strong grip, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

Seemed like he was able to make her smile again after all. 

“You know, I didn’t catch your name.” He called after her as she started to walk away. 

“Myrah. Myrah Koor. And yours?”

“D-”

“I’m kidding.” She stopped him before he even realized he was about to give it away, something he had kept so sacred yet for her, he would’ve given it up without a second thought. “Look me up if you ever come back to Canto Bight.” She waved before disappearing in the crowd.

If he ever came back to Canto Bight. That was something he swore he wouldn’t do once he arrived but now? He may just have to. 


	2. Hips Don't Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is very similar to the previous one shot with Din, I'm very sorry but I love dance imagines so.

# Hips Don't Lie

It was a small celebration. Of course, every day that the Resistance survived, there was a celebration. Not all were large, but they were one of the few constants in the rebels' lives. Consistency was good for them. Every day was unpredictable and no one truly knew if they would live to see the next sunrise. 

So, they celebrated.

Music flooded the building as people danced and swayed with their friends. Those who weren’t on the packed dance floor, sat around the large bar, drinking away the day’s worries. 

Shira chose the latter. 

She smiled as she watched everyone move around, heads bouncing to the music. These people had slowly become her friends and she loved each and every one entirely. Sure, things started out pretty rough, but she found her place in the Resistance. 

Her fingers traced gentle lines that were engraved and worn into the wooden bar. She wondered how many celebrations it had seen, the parties it supported. 

“Refill?” The bartender leaned against the counter, his eyes meeting Shira’s for the briefest of moments. 

“Yes, please.” She smiled and turned her attention back to the aged edges of the bar-top.

He slid her a small glass, full of ice and a shimmering, golden liquid. It swirled around the cup, the specs resembling the stars in the sky. She continued to swish it around as she glanced around, hoping her eyes might land on the smug pilot she worked beside. Much to her dismay, he was nowhere to be seen.

“Now what is a beautiful woman like you doing all alone?” A rich, teasing voice spoke behind her. 

Shira quickly spun on her stool, watching the man slide onto the seat next to her.

_Speak of the devil._

She chuckled to herself and took a small sip from her glass. “Does that actually work on anyone?”

“No.” He flashed her a large smile. “But I knew it would get your attention. What’re you doing over here? This is a party! You’re not supposed to sit and mope by yourself.”

“I’m not moping.” She quickly bit back. “Besides, I’m not by myself. You’re here.”

“You _were_ alone. Unless you were just waiting for me.” He joked and leaned over, grabbing her glass and taking a long swig of the golden alcohol. 

Shira quickly tried to snatch the drink back, but he managed to hold it just out of arm's length. She let out a huff and sat back on her seat, her eyes narrowing as she watched the corners of his mouth twitch, daring to reveal his smile. 

“I wasn’t waiting for you and there’s nothing wrong with sitting here alone.”

“Sure, doll.” He slid off the stool, offering his hands out to her. She stared at them for a moment, her eyebrows crinkling in confusion. “Why are you lookin’ at me like that? Come on.” He nodded towards the crowd of people dancing which only brought a look of disgust onto her face. 

Shira laughed and shook her head before finishing off her drink. “Dancing? Absolutely not.”

“Yes. C’mon.” He nodded again. 

She thought about it for a moment. The smile on his face was convincing and seemed innocent enough, but the crowd wasn’t her type of expertise.

“I don’t like dancing.”

Poe took her hands and pulled Shira down from the seat and into his arms. “Then I’ll lead.” He winked smugly and pulled her into the crowd with surprisingly little resistance. 

The building was warm, something Shira hadn’t noticed from her spot at the bar. All the bodies surrounding her certainly didn’t help. Her eyes darted around as she tried to decide whether she should make a run for it. 

She couldn’t see much with everyone dancing around. The only thing she could truly see were Poe Dameron’s deep brown eyes that were focused on her. With the dim lighting, it nearly felt intimate. She found herself moving closer to him. Well, being pushed closer with the people that were closing in on them.

Poe chuckled, a sound that Shira couldn’t help but melt at. “Take a deep breath, you’ll be fine.”

“It smells.” She spoke bluntly. The room reeked of sweat and alcohol but as Poe moved nearer, all she could smell was the rich scent of leather and caf. 

“Then hold your breath.” He whispered, hardly audible over the booming music. His hands rested on Shira’s hips, pulling her into his body. 

The amount of people felt overwhelming, but with Poe’s body surrounding her, Shira felt safe. His hands were warm and rested so delicately on her like she was something precious. To him, she was something precious, something meant to be kept from harm. 

“Follow me.” 

Shira nodded and cautiously wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers daring to move through the thick, dark curls at the back of his head. Poe pulled her flush against him, moving her hips in sync with his as he moved with the music. 

A red, hot blush spread across Shira’s face, but she hoped Poe wouldn’t see with such dark lighting. She managed to produce a small, shy smile, accompanied by a roll of her eyes that brought a laugh out of Poe’s chest. 

He leaned his head forward, his lips barely brushing her skin as he whispered the lyrics to her. Shira’s fingers threaded through his hair, her nails gently scraping his scalp as they danced against each other.

“Fuck, Shira.” He breathed out against the delicate skin beneath her ear. “You gonna keep driving me crazy or what?”

She hummed and pulled herself closer, relishing in the warmth he provided despite the sheen of sweat that had formed on their bodies. “I’m gonna go with ‘or what.’” 

Poe laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest, but hardly detected with the beat of the music. He pressed a soft kiss to the exposed skin of Shira’s shoulder, slowly, tauntingly dragging his lips across her skin until his nose met hers. His eyes gazed into hers, trying to look for some sort of answer to the question he couldn’t bring himself to ask. In fact, all words were lost from him when he was so close to her. 

He took a deep, trembling breath as he breathed in the smell of cedar and honey that melted off of her. “Shira.” He whimpered, looking into her glimmering eyes that resembled the mystic stars. 

Her nails dragged against the slight stubble along his jaw, trailing down his throat while he gulped, unable to tear his gaze from hers. His lips were so close to hers, he thought he would faint if he didn’t get to taste them soon.

“I want to hear you say it.” She whispered. “Beg.”

“Please, Shira. Won’t you just let me kiss you already?” He whined as his grip on her hips tightened. 

She let out a slight chuckle and in a small movement that felt like it lasted hours, she brought his lips to hers in a fierce dance. Poe groaned and pulled her in like a starving man, aching for her touch. If he had it his way, he would already have her halfway back to his quarters. Of course, things never work out the way we imagine them.

“It’s about damn time.” A booming voice shouted beside them, pulling the two lovers apart. “We were all wondering when you’d stop dancing around each other."

  
  



End file.
